


The Bold Choices We Make

by greywitchy



Series: Unrelated Spirk AUs [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Cadet James T. Kirk, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Kobayashi Maru, M/M, Mental Link, Professor Spock (Star Trek), Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Starfleet, Starfleet Academy, Tarsus IV, Vulcan Kisses, Vulcan Mind Melds, academy au, soft, spirk, star treck academy, star treck au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greywitchy/pseuds/greywitchy
Summary: Jim doesn't cheat the Kobayashi Maru per se. He just takes no shit and refuses to play along with it.Spock still calls upon an academic hearing, but he might find himself more fascinated by the bold cadet than he admits. And, clearly, in more than he bargained for.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Unrelated Spirk AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2105001
Comments: 52
Kudos: 247





	1. Hear Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly AOS-set.

“Captain, we–“

“Overridden,” says Jim lazily and slumps back into the captain’s chair. He drums his fingers on one handrest still and watches the scene unfold on the main screen.

The whole ship shakes as another beam grazes past. The ships close upon them, they circle around them and cut off any escape root. The main ship, Jim guesses by the size of it, is gaining power for the final strike – that is pretty obvious by the charging lights on its right board as well as the fact that it aims straight for his ship.

To put it lightly, they’re doomed.

“Captain, phasers banks–“

“Overridden,” cuts off Jim once again.

“We might dive to avoid–“

“Overridden.”

He’s said it before, and Jim will say it as many times as it takes. The whole crew stares at him by this point though. They stop making any suggestions, or minding their respective stations, or even moving! Well, apart from tripping or falling when another phaser hits the ship.

The sirens blaze in alert, and the bridge flashes red.

“Kirk, stop being a jerk and do something!” snaps Uhura and strides to him across the bridge.

Jim shrugs and watches her approach. And grab him by the lapels and give him a good shaking. And a deadly glare.

“Lieutenant Uhura,” says Jim in the same lazy, detached tone, “please return to your station.”

“Kirk–“

“Captain’s orders,” Jim smirks.

Uhura fumes. She glares at the screen, the other, smaller screen through which they can’t see, and yet through which they are being watched. And assessed.

“I’m not failing because of you!” Uhura grits through her teeth.

“Then follow the order Lieutenant.” Jim grins. “Return to your station.”

She does. The rest of the crew, some unfortunate classmates of Jim T. Kirk, watch her every step before they turn to stare back at their “captain”.

“What?” Jim laughs and waves them off. “We’re fucked up anyway.”

They turn away. Some go back to watching their half-burning, half-dead stations. Some stare at the bridge walls. Many mostly try not to see the large front screen as the other ships charge one last time.

_Crash!_

The ship shakes, it throws the crew off their feet or chairs, and the lights go out.

 **“Failed,”** reads the large red line on the front screen.

The hologram dissolves, and many grumble and scramble to their feet. Jim lies on his back a little longer and huffs a laugh.

“Kirk,” grits out Uhura as she passes him to the exit. “You’re crazy, get your head checked.”

“I will, thanks,” Jim grins back and rubs the back of his head as he sits up. “Think I hit it too bad.”

Uhura groans.

Jim leaves the Kobayashi Maru the last.

***

“... for violating…”

Jim yawns, then catches Bones glaring, and at least covers it with his hand. Yeah, the same day he received an official notice there would be an academic hearing on his behaviour. Which Jim had a good laugh about because there was _no way_ they could suspend him because he failed a test. Even if horribly. Even if he clearly failed it with _intent._

“… disrespecting the faculty…”

The stuffy professor reading out the accusation presses their PADD to play the recording on the large screen behind him. And, sure, there Jim is. After Uhura leaves, Jim stands up, flexes his aching arm and walks to the exit. He steps one foot through.

Well, for that they can get him.

On-screen, Jim stops, turns around and shows a fuck at the camera.

“That was over the board, okay,” groans Jim and glances to his side. “Should’ve stepped through first, I’m pretty sure I can express myself however I wish in the corridor.”

Bones, unlike Jim, gets to sit through the unreasonably long accusation, or does the stuffy professor just can't read it any faster?

By this point, Bones had enough of Jim for the day.

“No regrets then?”

Jim smirks. “Nah.”

“Wish you knew what you’re doing,” grumbles Bones one last time because the accusation comes to a close.

“How do you plead, cadet Kirk?” spits out the stuffy professor.

“To disrespecting the faculty?” Jim shrugs. “Guilty, I guess. It’s right there on the video.”

The professor stutters at that.

“Might I face the person who accused me of failing the test?” Jim goes on in the same carefree manner.

“Right… Commander… Lieutenant Commander Spock right there…”

But Jim doesn’t listen till the end because he already sees the movement in the rows of seats. A Vulcan, how funny. Jim smirks because _a Vulcan_ of all faculty should know that Jim broke no rule by failing the test on purpose. And yet _a Vulcan,_ for some reason, has felt their pride was affected enough to start an academic hearing against Jim who, well, just took their precious Kobayashi Maru and didn’t even try to solve it.

Jim catches his eyes wandering down the lean figure in black before he realises what he’s doing. Vulcans have their own appeal, Jim can’t deny that to himself. Stoic, serious, always so perfect-looking… Jim’s seen this one around campus before, and licks his lips because he _so knows_ how great the Vulcan looks from behind. When he doesn’t glare at him across the hall full of people.

“Cadet Kirk?” Lieutenant Commander Spock lifts one eyebrow and prompts Jim to speak.

Jim appreciates the gesture just a little longer.

“The test is rigged,” he throws then.

“You have lost both your crew and your ship–”

Jim lets the Vulcan speak. He doesn’t listen to the exact words, more to the deep voice which stirs a so-familiar and yet _somehow_ different feeling down the pit of his stomach.

“… failed to dodge or reciprocate any of the enemy attacks…”

Jim acknowledges it with a nod. The weird feeling springs at that, and, for a second, Jim could swear some emotion flicked in the Vulcan as well.

“… disregarded your respective crew person’s advice as concerning their spheres of expertise…” he goes on though, his voice and manners not shattered.

“They’d manage,” interrupts Jim. “Besides, it’s only a holo.”

“This hologram test was devised to prepare you for a real-life situation–“

Jim laughs. He can’t help it even though by the look Bones gives him – Bones know really questions Jim’s sanity.

“To test what, exactly?” teases Jim and turns back to Lieutenant Commander Spock. “Look, has it been a _real-life_ situation, there would have been a way out. There always is.”

“–“

Jim only lets him open his mouth this time. It’s entertaining, really. Jim’s always thought Vulcans were supposed to remain calm and stoic no matter what. This one… this one pretends that he does. Jim wonders if it’s just him, or the rest pick on the slight changes of Lieutenant Commander’s posture and body language as well. Or _maybe_ Jim just pays too much attention to the said _body._

“A way out is not an outcome that you like,” Jim goes on nevertheless, “a way out is what I say it is. Something. To be done. There’s always a way out in the real world, you might not like it, but it will be there!” Memories haunt Jim, and the failed Kobayashi Maru has nothing to do with them. “And this shit?! This crap of a test is a rigged math algorithm where your crew dies anyway!”

Jim grips his fists as tight as he can, and yet loses to himself in the end.

“Had we dodged the first strike,” he shouts and points at the screen where the test recording starts repeating, “the second ship on the left cuts into our right phaser bank – I lose the engineering, we can’t repair the ship, we can’t beam the remaining crew out. Had we dodged seven-point-seventeen right after sustaining the first strike…”

Jim snaps. Perhaps he’s talking too fast, too much data and coordinates from the damned test for any of the present parties to make sense of what he’s saying. Oh, well, Lieutenant Commander Spock does. Jim notices the little change about him just before he sees red completely.

“See? I lose my crew and my ship no matter what I do. So why didn’t I beam they all down to that lovely planet the first seconds the holo started and then go down with the damn ship as a captain should?” Jim huffs a laugh. “Oxygen levels. The readings indicated the planet must have been programmed after the Tel-Ran in Rigel IV. Which means, the plants produce carbon dioxide, which means, the crew would need masks to breathe but there weren’t actually any, which is a violation of Starfleet standard ship stocking, by the way. And they all die rather slow and painful deaths.”

Jim slams his fist into the desk in front of him.

“I’ve done nothing simply because there was absolutely fucking nothing to do to topple the odds which were never. Actually. There!”

And Jim gasps for breath. He looks around till his eyes focus back on the Vulcan. Something’s changed about him, Jim can’t put it. But, well, the hall buzzes, his mind buzzes?, Jim can’t hear anything either way. Or stay there any longer, the memories of what he’s been through just too painful to bear. First losing a father he never knew and then forced to watch him proclaimed “a hero” on the news on that fucked up Memorial Day every year. Then Tarsus IV. Where he dragged out a bunch of kids from under the bleeding bodies, and then proved they could make it out alive. With the slightest chances of survival, he had _something_ to risk, to gamble on. In this rigged test, designed by some Vulcan to amuse his pride and impose his superiority–

Jim rushes out from the hall before he finishes that thought. Never mind that he found Lieutenant Commander Spock attractive. That guy’s a massive jerk.

Among the shouts which caught up with Jim down the corridor, probably was Bones’ grumpy voice. Not that Jim cared enough to stop.

***

When the drop charges against him the next day, Jim can’t believe it.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” announces Bones, and too loud for Jim’s hangover body to handle it. “You’ve somehow got your lucky ass out of this one. Again.”

Jim groans and pulls the pillow from under his head to cover his heads.

“Get up,” snaps Bones then and smacks the pillow with his PADD. “They’ve cleared you.”

“What…?” Jim sits up. Yesterday flashes in front of his eyes in broken pieces. But, yeah, mostly he had an academic hearing, then he got smashed drunk, and even if he had nightmares of Tarsus IV - then he no longer remembers them.

“Well, mostly,” Bones places a bottle of water an a pill on Jim’s nightstand, “the disrespecting the faculty was clearly on camera so you got assigned to some professor to _help about the lab._ ” Bones huffs. “Honestly, sweeping the floor for a week is the least you could get off with.”

***

What Jim doesn’t know, is that Spock cannot believe the cadet spotted all of his carefully planted scenarios. A few cadets did acknowledge more than one route in the past, sure, and have opted for one anyway. Yet never have anyone chosen either of them.

What Jim doesn’t know, is that Spock requests all data there is on cadet James T. Kirk right after the said cadet runs out from his academic hearing.

What Jim doesn’t know, is that Spock… finds himself rather fascinated by the data found on the said cadet James T. Kirk.

And, _clearly_ , what Jim couldn’t know and Spock hopes, _hopes_ _how quaint is that_ , that cadet Kirk would never find out – is that Spock changes the Kobayashi Maru program the same day to allow for a 1% chance of survival. An obviously suicidal manoeuvre, Spock would never dare something remotely like it himself… The same thing that the Jim Kirk of seven years of age dared to do to make it out from Tarsus IV alive.

“Let them hit the ship to the point of almost beyond repair with less than a half warp-power left,” muses Spock to himself as he runs his fingers along the computer keyboard one last time. “Play dead. Then make a run for it.”


	2. Notice Me There

Jim stops in front of the door with the “ **E-902.3** ” number displayed on the screen in the middle. He tugs at the collar of his red cadet uniform, glances down at his PADD again and checks the number.

“Yeah, this is it…” Jim sighs to himself and knocks.

No answer comes.

Jim doesn’t get it, it’s just another minor detention among the not-few he has already landed himself since the beginning of the year. And yet Jim feels oddly… nervous. Oh. The realisation strikes when Jim least expected it but, definitely, describes the situation. Jim steps from one foot to the other, curses under his breath and slaps his open palm to his face.

“You must be kidding me…”

The weird, somehow tangly feeling doesn’t let go. In fact, it tugs again and Jim knocks the second time before he thinks it over.

No answer comes again.

“Fuck…”

Jim checks the clock, but, no, surprisingly, he isn’t even late. Oh, no, he’s right on time so whoever the faculty he was assigned to was–

“It can’t be Pike,” mutters Jim to himself and pushes the open-door button. The door slides aside, and Jim blinks. “He has an outing till next week.”

Jim pokes his head inside the room, and many thoughts race in his head. If the door's open, it wasn’t locked either from the inside or from the outside. Faculty usually locks theirs when they leave, or when they don't want anyone in, means, whoever it is, was probably expecting him, well, Jim did turn up on his assigned date, at the assigned time, yet why won’t they answer him then…?

“Er, hello? It’s cadet James Kirk,” Jim calls out and steps inside. Light blinds him from the wide window right across from the door, and Jim covers his eyes. “Whoever it was, had to volunteer to take my detention. Wonder who’d wanna spend a week in my company, huh.”

Jim huffs a laugh and rubs his eyes.

“Anybody in here?”

Jim looks around, it’s, well, a room. Jim shrugs. Looks the same as many other faculty offices he’s been to. Apart from lacking curtains and any personal items. This office has standardised light walls, standardised classroom furniture, standardised sturdy table farther to the right, a, yes, standardised chair behind and a smaller one in front of it…

“Try guessing now,” mutters Jim and takes a few steps in.

He whirls his head about: no, no pictures, no paintings, no decor, damn, not even a patched plaid over the chair or a mug on the table! Nothing personal.

“Maybe, they’re new.” Jim nods to himself at that. It makes sense. They’re new, they haven’t heard much about Jim, they think they can handle him…

Jim smirks.

Someone clears their throat.

And weird tangly feeling strikes him in the back and shoves Jim off his feet.

***

“…”

Spock might not hear it the first time, too engrossed in his experiment, and, besides, with sharper than human Vulcan hearing he took to wearing earplugs for a reason. It was logical, he rarely had visitors, and now the passing-by cadets no longer disturbed him.

So, yes, Spock does not _hear_ it the first time cadet Kirk calls out. Spock does, however, halt the exact second he feels a strong pull on his… very soul? Peculiarly enough, it describes the experience, thus, Spock settles with it. It is much stronger than before, at the academic hearing, Spock could almost reason with himself that what he, delusionally, acknowledged was merely his tired mind’s doing.

Spock did not vouch for the cadet in question because of an erroneous judgement of his. He glances at the clock and concludes that the noise must have been the cadet. Spock vouched for him because he wanted to talk to James T. Kirk. Perhaps to get to know him better, because if Spock was right, and he could hardly imagine how the cadet could have known everything he said at the hearing otherwise. So if Spock was right – cadet James T. Kirk might have a brilliant mind to pick up on all the possibilities which Spock had programmed into Kobayashi Maru. Not only did cadet Kirk acknowledged them all from the first try, but he also assessed them, correctly, and reasoned there was nothing to be done to win against the odds. Spock programmed the test so himself.

The erroneous fleeting _feeling_ had nothing to do with the sudden, although carefully concealed eagerness to meet cadet Kirk. Spock takes a deep breath and lays down his instruments. He denies seeing that his hands tremble. He also denies any other thoughts concerning cadet Kirk rather than the ones where Spock is very curious to discuss a few theories with him. Cadet James T. Kirk might be on the accelerated command track, yet the number of scientific extracurriculars he’s taken is astounding. As well as his library record, which might compete with his minor offences record, yet on the last one, Spock refuses to dwell.

Spock is so not ready for the second _pull_ when the said cadet walks into his office.

How peculiar that his hands now, surely, tremble.

Spock, slowly, raises to his feet and turns around. It somehow happened so, the experiment outgrew the designated space on one of the tables in the farther corner, and Spock went on contracting the mechanism off the table.

Cadet James T. Kirk stands in the middle of his office and rubs his eyes, clearly, blinded by the light. Spock never drew blinders because compared to Vulcan suns, on-Earth light never bothered him before. It does not seem to bother him now as well, although… Spock flushes a little and, sharply, looks away. Catching himself staring at the cadet as the light streams down the messy short blond hair and the fit figure in red _should_ bother Spock.

“You have last seen cadet Kirk two days six hours ago,” Spock reminds himself silently. “He could have hardly changed his appearance in the time being.”

Which is true. James– _cadet Kirk,_ looks the same, yet this time much closer than the two auditorium blocks of seats separating them. And the air denses and tingles, the unseen sides of one link not-yet between them reach out towards each other. Two highly compatible minds.

Highly intelligent – that he has already given to cadet Kirk.

Speculatively attractive?

Spock draws a shaky breath and clasps his hands behind his back. He is calm. He is in control.

Meanwhile, cadet Kirk does not seem to notice him in the corner of the office and looks around instead. He frowns, and Spock feels the disappointment reek off him. Spock fails to ascertain what exactly the cadet expected to see.

Spock clears his throat.

The cadet somehow trips and almost loses his balance, yet stays up and turns around.

Spock realises, perhaps too late, that he might have forgotten to input his name on the request page. He filled out the forms with the number of his office _and_ his name, and yet in the message cadet Kirk received on his PADD there must have been no name mentioned.

“You!?” exclaims James Kirk and points at him.


	3. Feel This

“You?!” Jim cries out and points at the dark figure in the office corner.

Because, well, guess the universe is coming after him after all the times Jim wronged it… Or something. There should be some catch to it, some kind of a mistake, something! Jim rampages through his pockets, fuck, he’s suddenly forgotten he was still holding his PADD and so there’s no point in looking for it–

Jim scrolls through his mail. No, the date is correct. No, the time is correct. And, no, the room number is correct as well, which means…

Jim raises his eyes. They meet with the dark, intense gaze.

The Vulcan freezes, his shoulders tense, or it could be his usual posture, attitude, whatever– Somehow, and the _somehow_ bothers Jim a lot, because of this _somehow_ Jim can tell that Lieutenant Commander Spock experiences something close to freaking out. By Vulcan standards.

But, stubbornly, Jim shakes his head. He’s probably wrong, and it’s just his own emotions ramming back into him. Honestly, this Vulcan was the last person Jim expected to see for detention.

Oh. Right, his detention.

“Er, I guess I will be helping you then,” Jim mumbles and pulls on his signature smile. It hardly keeps there, the corners of his mouth quaver, yet Jim shoves his hand out still. “Cadet James T. Kirk, reporting, sir.” Jim can’t help the last notes tinting his words. Maybe the Vulcan misses the biting–

Wait. He’s Vulcan, damn it. Jim gulps and feels his insides flip, and yanks his hand away–

Lieutenant Commander Spock stops. With his hand raised but not close enough, yet!, to where Jim’s just been.

“Er, sorry, about that, I shouldn’t have…” Jim rambles on sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck.

It’s weird, all of this is weird, and the funny pull he feels to the Vulcan especially. Well, sure, Jim finds him attractive, but that doesn’t set Spock apart from half the campus who Jim found attractive now and then.

There’s something unnerving about how intently the Vulcan looks at him. But at least Jim breathes out when Spock, finally, takes his hand back and clasps both of his behind his back. As they were. As they should be, otherwise, Jim’s too much in danger of ogling those long, slim fingers–

Lieutenant Commander Spock clears his throat. Jim snaps his head up. It somehow develops from that.

Or not.

Because, apparently, as the said Lieutenant Commander adjusts his hands behind his back, he grazes elbow past some equipment on the table next to him, and that thing clatters to the floor.

Spock stares at the metallic thing as if it’s the most offending object he's ever seen, and Jim bursts out laughing.

“Sorry,” Jim adds right away, “I’ve never seen a clumsy Vulcan before.” Ugh, that doesn’t sound good, and Jim winces and gestures about. “Well, okay, I’ve never seen a Vulcan this close up before at all–”

Spock, _gracefully_ huh, lowers down and tries to pull the instrument from under the table where it rolled to. Jim dives after it too, they reach out for it at the same moment–

The giddy feeling washes over Jim, and he snatches his hand back. He jerks his head up, oh, well, damn his luck, because he didn’t realise before he’d end up inches away from Lieutenant Commander’s face. And it feels like the air still left in between them crackles.

Spock forgets about the device too and watches Jim instead. His eyes locked only on Jim’s face as if he searches for something, so intense… Which is so not helping Jim.

“Is this,” Jim gestures about, “er, has it something to do with you, guys? Vulcans? I feel weird. Like, weird- _weird._ ”

If Jim wasn’t looking close enough, he’s convinced himself it was just his imagination that something changes about Spock’s expression.

Jim snatches up the instrument from under the table, a simple reason for him to break away from that dark, intense gaze.

“Here.” Jim hands it over and tries to hold onto as little of the metallic device as possible.

Spock takes. Slowly. Their eyes meet again, and their fingers brush still.

Jim yanks his hand back and stares at it for good measure. Weird. Too weird.

“Was there wool involved or something? Static electricity,” Jim laughs, shakes his hand and tries to pass it as a joke.

Jim raises to his feet for a good measure, yet Spock stays. The image of Spock on his knees in front of him doesn’t help, and Jim takes a step back.

“You’ve vouched for me,” blurts out Jim to change the topic and whirls his head around. “Do you need me to clean the lab or stamp some boring stuff?”

Jim’s definitely seeing things because it looks like Lieutenant Commander smiles up at him. Warmly. With only his dark eyes, but still.

“Actually,” starts Spock and stands up. “I find your way of dealing with Kobayashi Maru quite fascinating. I wanted to talk to you. Discuss a few ideas of mine, perhaps,” he gestures behind and at the whatever that experiment on and off the table is, “you would help me out?”

“Talk?” blurts out Jim. “ _You_ wanted to _talk_ to me?”

***

“Talk? You wanted to _talk_ to me?”

Spock nods and clasps his hands behind his back even tighter. He is in control of his emotions, he is in control. Repeating it over and over in his head helps. A little. However, the images teasing his mind, all of which include the alluringly smart cadet Kirk, do not help the situation at all.

Spock takes a deep breath. Their minds reach out to each other, and Spock wonders with great curiosity if James Kirk could realise what he is doing. For Spock, though, the single jolt at their touch has settled a lot of things once and for all. He only has to decide how to go about his new discovery.

And Spock breathes out, looks up at Jim and agrees, _as calmly and neutrally as he can manage_ , “Indeed.”

***

Working with Spock is surprisingly easy. Jim expected a Vulcan to be strict and always _pissed off_ at the way humans do things, but, no. This one is different, well, maybe all of them are, Jim hasn’t met a Vulcan before.

“Should I increase the heat?” asks Jim as he adjusts the lights over Spock’s small greenhouse.

That is the experiment he was working on for the past week, that one which took over, now, two tables and the floor in between them. The lights were linked together, and the glass walls and mirrors positioned thus so as to cater to the weird plants’ needs. Honestly, Jim’s never seen anything like those. They reminded him of cacti but brighter and with sharper edges.

“Affirmative,” says Spock without glancing up.

Jim smiles. He likes, _secretly_ , of course, watching Spock work. How concentratedly Spock moves the tricorder about, how his eyebrows knit together or move up when he records something out of ordinary, or how Spock breathes out _fascinating_ every time–

“Ouch!” Jim snatches his hand back, damn cacti, his finger bleeds.

Spock looks up – Jim already shoves his fingers into his mouth to stop the blood.

And, for some reason, Spock pales and stares at Jim.

“I m-cut my fpinger,” mumbles Jim and licks of the blood. He pulls it out and looks over. “Nothing serious, just a scratch–“

Sharply, Spock turns away. A greenish hue plays on cheeks, yet it could be the lights. Jim really hopes it’s just the lights because he doesn’t want to think he disgusted Spock somehow. Well, okay, putting fingers into your mouth is hardly hygienic, but Jim was doing that since he was a kid. And he was still okay.

Spock raises to his feet and walks away. Somehow his shoulders seem tenser, and Jim watches his back till Spock reaches the table.

Oh.

Spock pulls out a drawer and takes a few bandaids.

“It’s just a scratch, I’ll live,” laughs Jim.

Spock gives him one of those unreadable but definitely intense looks which Jim is yet to learn to tell apart. He sits down next to Jim and reaches out to take his hand.

 _O-oh._ Jim blinks. He stares at the offered hand for some seconds before he snaps out of it and shoves his injured hand to Spock.

Jim flinches, and, _finally,_ catches that Spock felt the jolt too. They’re becoming gentler with the time they spent around each other. A few times Spock denied it was static electricity, which Jim, actually, wanted it to be. It would explain things and make them easier, because, otherwise… otherwise, this _feeling_ Jim gets whenever he accidentally, ha, sure, _accidentally_ grazes Spock, is plain weird. But Jim kinda liked it. In a really weird sense.

Spock avoids touching Jim at first. He applies the salve, while Jim holds his hand up. Then Spock opens the bandaid, looks at his hand and–

Jim bites his lip and keeps the weird noise in. Spock grabs his hand. _Spockgrabshishand_ and pulls it closer to himself, but right now they bare hands touch fully, and Jim clearly remembers something about that and Vulcans from xenology classes, and telepathy, and, fuck, please don’t let Spock be hearing his _every_ thought because Jim wouldn’t bare to stay in the same room with his after that, or would have to explain himself and who knows what’s worse because Spock, definitely, kicks him out once he learns of the not-so-little crush Jim might or might not have developed on him–

“You should be more careful,” hears Jim the usual neutral voice.

Jim blinks. Spock is right there – sits close to him and still holds his hand. Green colours his pale face. It suits him, makes Spock look suddenly vulnerable and less all-mighty.

Jim shakes his head and looks away. On his finger now is a bandaid, guess Jim missed the moment Spock put it around his finger.

Wait.

Why does Spock keep holding his hand then…?

***

Spock has no logical explanation for what he is currently doing. He _could_ have reasoned with himself that holding cadet Kirk’s hand made it easier to apply the bandaid, however, that was already securely around the said finger. And Spock had no desire of letting go of James Kirk’s hand. It felt warm in his, and it felt right.

Too right even.

James looks away very sharply, and Spock freezes at that. He releases the hand and, hurriedly, hides both of his behind his back to avoid further temptation. _James,_ huh. Spock cannot control himself from slipping to it in his mind anymore. At least he knows better than to let his guard down and say it outlaid.

The silence stretches on.

Spock clears his throat first.

“Should we…” he glances at the clock, and it’s long after hours. Kirk stayed behind before, and Spock convinces himself it is because the cadet finds his experiment interesting as well. Nothing else. No other logical reason. “…Finish for today?

“I guess…” James smiles sheepishly. He rubs the back of his neck and watches his shoes.

Spock waits. He has observed James enough to know he hesitates to ask something. When he does, however, Spock freezes and could almost hear the remains of his will-power and logic leave through the window.

Because James blushes quite heavily and asks,

“You play chess, right? Wanna join me?”

How is Spock even supposed to say _no_ to that face?

***

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

This is it, Leonard is now done with his roommate.

“He’s actually not half that bad,” shouts the said roommate as he scurries about the room. With a piece of toast. Leaving crumbs everywhere, not to mention the large jam smudge on the carpet.

And cleaning’s hardly Leonard’s concern.

“More than a half of his building disagrees with you,” grumbles Leonard and gestures about. He frowns and thinks it over. “Jim, the greater half of the academy would disagree with you! The hobgoblin has proved himself less than sociable, and I’m putting it nicely.”

Jim stops and looks at his, one untied, shoes.

Did it work? Leonard doesn’t get to finish the thought.

Jim flushes crimson, gobbles the rest of his toast and scuffs the untied shoe on the floor. “I kinda–“

Leonard groans and throws his hand up. “Kinda what?”

At that… Jim jerks his head up, grins right at Leonard, waves and dashes for the door.

“I kinda like him, bye, Bones!” he blurts out and runs out on him.

Leonard might feel his eye twitching for some time as he watches the closed door.

***

“Cadet Kirk–“ starts Spock but freezes with the rook in his hand when he’s interrupted.

“Jim,” grins the cadet across the table, “please.”

“That would be breaching–“ Spock glances about, but, no, they are the only ones left in the hall. After all, not many find 3-dimensional chess fascinating enough to stay up past midnight to finish the game. And many were off-campus on a Friday night in the first place.

It dawns on Spock too late. He has spent the past three hours in the sole company of James T. Kirk. In a dimly-lit recreation room. On the mostly-abandoned academy campus grounds because it is past the working hours of any faculty member.

Spock feels the warmth creep up his face and snaps his head to the chess set in front of him instead. Perhaps, the lighting will prevent James from noticing.

“Come on,” draws the said cadet and smiles at him just like that.

Spock has long failed to characterise what that seemingly common and yet irresistibly alluring smile of only this cadet does to him.

“I give you permission,” pushes on James. “Nope, better.” His face lights up even more. “I insist to be called by my chosen name!”

Spock places the rook on the board and closes his eyes. Not seeing Jim– James, _cadet Kirk,_ does not alleviate his state, yet he keeps trying to remain composed. And absolutely in control of his emotions.

Spock feels the warm pull on his mind.

No, James might still have no idea what he does or how he does it. The possibility of a bond, a deep and intimate one, hangs between them, but Spock refuses to hope.

“That is not how the regulation works,” says Spock neutrally.

“It does now,” grins Jim.

And since when Spock can resist that smile?

***

“Where’re you going?” Leonard grumbles and frowns from under the covers. Blast his energetic roommate, it’s Saturday morning!

Jim bustles about the room. He’s opened the curtains, which woke Leonard up in the first place, and now rampages through his closet and grabs random shirts. Mutters something to himself, shoves them back in, a few he holds to himself and looks over in the mirror.

“Who are you dating this time?” groans Leonard. “A fairy? Because I’d be damned to name a single species on his campus who’d wake up and be chirpy this early, well, maybe–“

“Oh, it’s not a date,” corrects Jim peacefully. He settles on a shirt, _finally_ , and stops clattering all the hangers. “I’m helping Sp– Lieutenant Commander Spock–“

Leonard growls and smacks his face back into the pillow, and yanks the covers over his head, and, yeah, groans some more till he hears the door close behind Jim.

“If I haven’t had his head checked myself…” grumbles Leonard and pushes the covers back down. He rolls over and settles on his back. “Maybe the hobgoblin _ism_ spreads, like a virus– or I should check Jim for bites…”

Leonard falls silent.

Leonard stares at the ceiling.

“Jesus, somebody bleach my brains to get that image out of my head…”

And Leonard shuts his eyes and hopes he won’t dream of anything that Jim could be up to with the hobgoblin. On a very early Saturday morning.

***

“So…” Spock pauses and prompts Jim to explain, yet Jim might not get it yet.

Jim just grins up at him and walks by Spock’s side with his hands in his pockets. Jim’s chosen an informal attire this time, and Spock cannot help but appreciate how the checkered shirt outlines Jim’s figure. Or at least he very well tries to keep his eyes no lower than Jim’s waist because the tight pants fit him even better.

“Where… are we going?” prompts Spock and forces himself to look at the sky. Which does not last long enough.

Jim makes that short, adorable noise, and Spock snaps his head back to watch Jim. Jim beams back.

“Well,” he gestures about, which is Jim’s usual habit as he talks, “you know what was the first thing I thought of when I saw your office?”

“I could hardly know for you have not told me,” remarks Spock. He lingers a step behind because right now Jim would, as usual again, circle around, in front of him.

Jim does. He now walks to Spock’s left side and grins even wider. “I thought it was rather empty.”

“My office is furnished according to all academy regulations.”

“Yeah-yeah,” Jim huffs a laugh and makes a face. “But, like, you know, impersonal.”

“I fail to see your meaning–“

“Personal items?” prods Jim. “Others have bright cushions, checkered plaids, embroidered patterns, damn, weird cups or holo-photos on their desks!”

Spock is well aware he has none of those things in his office, whereas he has spotted a few in his colleagues’.

“I never understood the purpose,” he admits quieter. Perhaps Spock misses some Earth custom or underlying intentions, and it unsettles him.

Jim laughs. Somehow that single laugh can set Spock back at ease in one second.

“They don’t have a purpose, okay, none that I can think of anyway.”

Jim looks nowhere but at Spock. Their eyes lock, and their minds reach for each other in the warm, familiar fashion. Not yet a bond. Stronger with every day.

Spock finds himself too… _afraid_ to act on it. How peculiarly human.

“They’re just kinda, er, there?” Jim waves around and dives to walk by Spock’s other side. “Everyone has some. I have my items scattered around the room, makes Bones mad, but okay, they’re a part of me, you know?”

Spock recalls seeing cadet Leonard McCoy and cannot imagine how infuriating the said cadet _on purpose_ might be considered negligible. Or a safe idea as far as many things go, but Jim should know better.

“I figured you don’t have many?”

Spock stops.

“I do not follow what you refer to…?”

“Personal items?” prompts Jim. “Decorations?” He shrugs. “Something from home, maybe?”

Spock goes over the items in his room. Perhaps, he might grasp the thought, his mother, after all, has always brought home some _souvenirs_ as well. His father failed to understand the reasoning, Spock found placing the items around the house to no purpose, however, both indulged her. Spock reasoned that it was a human thing and nodded to agree with Jim.

“My mother has been sending me _souvenirs_ from Vulcan.”

“See?”

Spock is in control. The firmer hold on his mind and Jim’s bright, alluring smile are not enough to sway him. Any Vulcan might have acted already: their minds compatibility is clear, and Spock feels the warm presence wash over him whenever they accidentally touch… Spock, however, hesitates. He convinces himself he should wait more, Jim is human and the perfectly logical reasoning to start and nourish a bond between them might be lost on him. Humans found Vulcan bonds invasive, that Spock was led to believe. If he went about it very slow, though–

“They are in my quarters,” Spock swallows and looks away. “Are we to pick them up then?”

The fleeting thought of Jim in his living space… Spock shakes his head and pushes the image from his mind. Heat creeps up his cheeks anyway, and Spock may only hope Jim is too preoccupied with his idea to notice.

“That…” Jim stutters. And Jim blushes, and for a split second Spock catches more from him through the bond not-yet-there– _Longing._

The mood pulsating through the bond to-be flips.

“And we’re getting you more too!” exclaims Jim excitedly and runs on along the path, which leads off campus grounds.

They end up walking through town all day. Together. And Spock cannot deny that he feels _happy_.

***

“What's that monstrosity?” grumbles Leonard as he watches his roommate struggle across the room.

In Jim’s hands is an enormous… thing. Leonard has no words to describe it. But the thing it big and heavy, and Jim hardly holds it but stubbornly carries outside their room.

“It’s a Japanese fountain and rock garden,” puffs Jim. “In the disassembled state. They say you watch it to meditate so I got one for–”

Leonard groans. “The hobgoblin, right. Let me guess, you haven’t reconsidered signing up as his official lab attendant then?”

“I’ve been approved,” laughs Jim.

“O-ow!” The thing, and Jim with it, lean forward, Jim wobbles but catches his balance in the end. He pushes the door open with his foot. “Bye, Bones!”

Leonard sighs and slumps back into his chair. He’s officially done with those two.


	4. Make the Move

*** 

“… and guess what he said–“ Leonard stops in the room of their room, just after he pushed it halfway open.

In the darkness inside, the streak from the corridor is almost the only light in the room. _Almost_. The date on Leonard’s arm looks at him curiously and then leans in to see.

The two persons inside don’t even turn.

“Geez, dammit, Jim!” swears Leonard and throws his hand up.

“Is this some kind of a setup?” asks his date and wrinkles her pretty nose. “I’m against groupies, _excuse me._ ” And with that, she slaps Leonard, expectedly, and storms away.

“Wait!” he shouts after her.

The heels hurriedly clack farther and farther down the corridor.

Leonard groans and facepalms. He looks after his date, then at the two in the middle of the room.

“Just make out already!” exclaims Leonard and slams the door. He goes chasing after his date.

***

“Just make out already!” exclaims cadet Leonard McCoy and slams the door.

Spock considers the closed door for some time. With the sudden intrusion gone, and with it the lights gone, he is suddenly aware of several facts. One, of how dark it is in the room. Two, of the persons living in the said quarters, namely cadet James T. Kirk . Three, of just how close the said cadet sits next to him. Better to say _across_ from him, Spock corrects himself, and yet Jim leans in to see the board in between them. Spock leans in as well – the light, they were using Jim’s PADD as the source, is hardly enough to illuminate the chess pieces.

Spock swallows. And takes a deep breath when the sound carries too loud about the room.

Jim stares at the board, he would not look up since his roommate’s departure. Spock cannot disregard how his shoulders look tenser, although, he should not judge the outline in the darkness.

“Don’t listen to him,” blurts out Jim and huffs a sheepish laugh. “Bones was just joking. Just joking…”

Spock fails to see the fun. Of which he informs Jim.

“I fail to see cadet McCoy’s amusement in… this.”

Jim shrugs and grabs a random chess piece. Spock knows, the movement was too erratic and spontaneous even for Jim. Then Jim smacks the piece on the board, and the move makes no logical sense at all. Surely, Jim has done so before, and won, Spock takes pride in acknowledging Jim’s genius and how he developed a strategy to win against his every-calculated move style.

Not this time, however.

Spock cannot help himself now. Before, he was too captivated by the unusual game, yet with cadet McCoy’s arrival, that is gone. Spock catches himself staring, hungrily, eagerly… His eyes trace from Jim’s tense shoulders, oh how Spock would rather touch them, he has to reach out and he could assure Jim everything was alright, he could slide his open palms down Jim’s muscles and, slowly, kneed up to his neck, pull Jim closer and run his fingers higher and up the nape of Jim’s neck, from that into his hair, and he would be close enough to pull Jim flush against his chest, lean in and whisper all that he wants into his ear as he holds Jim close, his lips hardly graze the earlobe–

Spock shakes himself awake. And catches his breath, he is in control. He is. In control. Yet his mind betrays him, his eyes catch on Jim’s silhouette in the darkness once more, Jim doesn’t look from the board, then Spock follows down his bare arms, Jim wears a T-shirt, his eyes linger on the curled fingers–

Spock takes a deep breath and members how they ended up where they are. They sit on the carpet in the middle of Jim’s dorm room. Because. One. They stayed debating a theory long enough in Spock’s office for the automatised janitor to throw them out. Which was unexpected because Spock never knew they were programmed to deal that way with any persons staying on the educational campus facilities after hours. But Jim laughed a lot and assured him it was okay. Spock agreed with the notion for he was partial to Jim’s laughter.

Two. Jim beamed and grasped Spock’s arm, just a little above the elbow. He said he thought they would finish earlier and then go to the recreation halls. Yet, since those were probably closed by that time as well, Jim invited him into his dorm room. For “a surprise”.

Three. Spock was grasping the remains of his logic while desperately trying to keep his face emotionlessly neutral, which is why Jim had to trouble in dragging him down the halls, across campus and into his dorms.

Four. Jim switched on the lights and pushed Spock in. Cadet McCoy was not there, and Jim waved it off with a _“Bones won’t be here till after midnight.”_

And five, Jim grinned even wider, rampages through the drawers and pulled out a chess set. A real, old Earth chess set, and the 3D chess they would play.

“Up for a challenge Lieutenant Commander Spock?” Jim teased with that irresistible smile of his.

Spock appreciated the offer. Concentrating on his game would help him keep his thoughts off Jim, or at least turn them to the track where he solely thinks about how to beat that alluringly intelligent mind of Jim’s.

Six and seven: they ended up on the floor because the table was thrashed with _whatever_ that stuff was. Spock would rather not think about it, and Jim, very quickly, turned him around and suggested the comfortable-looking thick carpet in the middle of the room. The lights inside switched off soon enough for the lack of movement, yet light still streamed in through the window. When the lights outside were turned off, neither cared enough to break from the game, so Jim pulled his PADD closer.

Which is where they were now.

Sitting on the carpet. Leaning to each other over the chessboard. In complete darkness because the screen of Jim’s PADD just went out as the battery died.

“He didn’t mean that,” whispers Jim, and that hushed sound shakes Spock to the very soul.

Spock shivers and acknowledges it, although he would rather have not admitted so.

“Who?” Spock chokes out. His throat feels hoarse. Spock finds no logical explanation for this.

“Bones.”

Jim takes a sharp breath and snaps his head up. Their eyes lock. Spock forgets how to breath when the warmth of their possible bond sweeps over him. Too close, too familiar, too soothing– _Too much._

“About…” Jim glances away for a second and jerks one shoulder. “You know.”

Surely, there is also the unaddressed matter of cadet McCoy’s rash comment. Spock would not dare hope, despite his logical reasoning suggesting him that McCoy, as Jim’s roommate, might have some insight on Jim’s regard, or lack of such, towards Spock. Either that, or it could have been but a joke – Spock reminds himself. Or an angry, malicious comment to break their friendship after Jim and he have, clearly, altered cadet McCoy’s plan to engage in coitus with his chosen partner. Spock wondered if that was what Jim meant when he noticed they were not to stay past midnight. Where Jim planned to go, initially, escapes Spock.

Spock ponders on it a little longer. He should make a move, it is his turn, and yet he cannot but indulge himself. He remembers Jim helping him about the lab. Debating over his experiments. With a smile smouldering but deep inside his eyes Spock recalls decorating with Jim and all the evenings spent together playing chess… What they have developed is a beautiful friendship. A connection of alike and highly-compatible minds, they might create a strong, intimate bond, yet Spock should never put what they already have at risk. He has no logical reasoning to support that cadet James T. Kirk harbours romantic feelings towards him. Jim has never expressed any. And whenever the not-yet bond touches his mind, or pushes, or pulls Spock in– clearly, Jim is only human and cannot have the slightest clue that he is doing it.

Spock pulls out his own PADD, his face should settle into the neutral expression by the moment he switches on the lights, and Spock lays his PADD close to where Jim’s is.

With that Spock makes a move. He moves the rook, and Jim may take it out the next move, but the game Spock has already lost, thus, it would not matter.

But then… the most extraordinary thing happens.

Spock would never dare to risk. Jim _always_ dared, Spock remembers too late.

Because Jim takes a sharp breath, turns his head up and looks right at Spock. Decisive. In the dim digital light, Jim’s blue eyes seem to glower. Atwitter. But the not-yet-a-bond brings _scared_ over to Spock.

And Jim raises up his hand. His movements are all jerky. Too harsh. Jim holds out two fingers in between them.

The ozh'esta.

And the door slams open again.


	5. Feel and Let It Stay

***

Jim curses everything: this day, the academy, Pike for daring him to enrol at the academy, the day he first saw Spock, the day he pretty much fucked around with Spock’s test, the academic hearing, his life, etc – as the door slams open. Jim would’ve congratulated himself on remembering so many things to be angry within a split second if it wasn’t for the situation.

Worst of all, Jim might’ve just made the biggest mistake ever. Okay, this year, or perhaps the biggest mistake this month if– Ahem. Spock is still sitting there, mere inches away from Jim. Staring at Jim blank enough for Jim to start questioning his existence. With Jim, _of course, he just had to!,_ holding his two fingers to Spock in the unmistakable Vulcan kiss. Many thoughts rush through Jim’s mind, like, he can pass it off as a joke, or he pretends he has no idea what the gesture means and that he actually was about to ask Spock about it, which is why he showed it, and then Bones barged in and interrupted…

Somehow, Jim can’t. He knows that Spock _knows_ Jim really meant the gesture. Jim doesn’t understand how, his gut feeling tells him it’s true _,_ and foreign surprise washes over him in waves. He’s read Spock all wrong. Spock couldn’t have had any feeling for him. Jim hoped– The realisation crashes over Jim like a bucket of ice-cold water.

Guess Jim’s just fucked up a _fascinating_ friendship because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Well, at least the door is finally fully open, and Bones might save Jim from the further embarrassment. Or add to it.

Jim turns his head.

Bones is frozen in the doorway. The light from the corridor might not be enough, but Jim can swear Bones’ eye twitches.

***

“I was just kidding, dammit!” shouts cadet Leonard McCoy and whirls around on his heels. He pauses yanking the door back closed though. “Don’t mind me, go ahead with your Vulcan hoodoo.”

McCoy mutters under his breath and slams the door shut.

Spock turns back to Jim. Their possible bond vibrates, it grows weaker and weaker as Jim leans back and crawls farther away from Spock. Horrified. The fear in his eyes is enough even without the not-bond carrying Jim’s emotions to Spock. Regret. Spock throws all logical reasoning out of the window and decides that he could not care less.

Spock pounces. He shoves the board away, chess pieces clatter and scatter all about the room, but Spock already has his two fingers pressed to Jim’s. The strongest jolt there ever was between them shakes them both. Jim yelps, and Spock feels his breath hitch. Spock grabs Jim’s other wrist and slides his fingers to Jim’s on that hand as well.

It feels liberating, like when you do something you are supposed to, want to, yet kept denying yourself to do so.

It feels _right._

But it lasts for a mere second, because Spock, as he set himself into motion, already topples Jim over and almost falls on top of him.

Spock crashes his lips to Jim’s.

Jim wriggles underneath him, and Spock pins his hands, their fingers still touching in the ozh'esta.

And straddles Jim while some reason at the back of his head still nudges Spock to keep most of his greater than human weight off Jim. He _does_ balance himself over Jim on his knees–

At least till Jim snaps their fingers, palms flat against each other, and locks their hands together. And throws himself up, from Jim’s position flat on his back, he cannot move, yet Jim still persists and grinds his body into Spock. And kisses Spock back like his life depended on it.

Trumping back and forth through their not-yet-bond, Spock is no longer sure whose emotions those are. Warmth. Fire. Passion. Regard. Respect. Desire. Adoration. They mix and flow into each other. Spock feels their minds mix and flow into each of their beings as well.

Jim bites his lower lip and shoves his tongue into Spock’s mouth. It’s a little cooler than this own, Spock remembers their bodies respective temperatures but pushes all thoughts away. He has no use for them, he doesn’t want them. A low moan escapes one of them, or both…? Jim lets out throaty noises and rubs himself against Spock.

“Ashaya…” Spock breathes out against Jim’s lips when they separate.

A gasp. Jim’s hold on Spock’s hands weakens, and Spock slides them away. Not that he would rather separate from Jim, but more so that he cannot help it that he does not want to keep his hands off Jim any second longer. Ragged breaths. Spock’s blood rushes through his body. Their lips are still close enough for Spock to feel Jim’s hot breath against his skin.

Spock presses his palm to Jim’s collarbone and slides it down to his chest. Jim shudders and rolls his head back. Jim’s heart trumps right under Spock’s fingertips, and Spock’s own races to the same pace in his side. Jim’s vulnerably open neck is an invitation Spock would now never resist.

Spock slides his other hand up Jim’s side and to his shoulder, presses, and Jim sprawls out of the carpet. Spock shifts over him, their bodies back flush against each other, their bond, not-yet?, pounds and burns the air left around them.

Spock bites Jim’s neck hard enough to leave a mark, then low enough for the red cadet uniform to hide it. Jim moans and grasps his shoulders, his fingers dig into Spock’s skin. Bruising. That undoes him. Spock feels his own chest rumble and pounds his hips into Jim. And bites again, higher, the next hickey Spock leaves even higher.

Jim gasps for breath against Spock’s skin and thrashes underneath him. Their bond hums, its intensity grows and it is as if the air crackles wherever their bodies don’t touch. Spock rushes to rectify it, his hands are on Jim, they move, and explore, and slide wherever Spock can reach. Jim moans, grabs Spock by both sides of his face and yanks him up, he crashes their lips back together. Jim’s burning hands tug at the back of Spock’s shirt, and in a moment Jim slides them under the edge. Hot skin flat open against hot skin. Jim’s emotions flood Spock’s every sense but he could no longer tell where his own ended anyway.

***

Leonard McCoy goes from highly annoyed to kinda pleased and back every half a minute or so. He’s shoved his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders and walks around the dark campus grounds like that. Not a living being in sight. Not a single noise comes. Leonard squints into the darkness and hardly sees the path under his feet because all external lights were switched off after curfew and Leonard couldn’t care more to use the torch on his PADD.

“At least I’m not hearing more of the hobgoblin nonsense any time soon,” grumbles Leonard to cheer himself up. “And, _clearly,_ Jim owns me now for that disaster of a date.” Leonard groans. “He promised he won’t be there, and then he’s there, the hobgoblin is there, and– ugh. Somebody brainwash me because I don’t want to know that they brain-fucked on the carpet.”

Leonard stops and looks at his shoes.

“Is it better than of they actually fucked on that carpet…?”

_Crash!_

Leonard snaps his head up.

“O-ops, sorry,” rings a hushed voice. “I-i just… ouch!”

Leonard looks around and follows the voice. He steps off the path and strides across the grass and, yeah, there’s somebody up that tree. By the tree lies a broken, but clearly empty before, martini bottle.

There’re two people in that tree. One clings onto the lowest branch.

“Hold on, Chris,” whispers the other a branch higher and reaches down to grab ? _her friend_.

“What are you doing?” asks Leonard and wonders if he’s seeing this or he’d better has himself checked the next morning.

“Drinking,” answers the one higher and holds up another bottle. “Care to join? You seem to have a problem.”

“I don’t–“

“Nobody wanders the campus alone on a Friday night unless they have a problem with their roommate,” points out the same person.

Leonard thinks it over. Whoever this is, she makes a lot of sense.

“What happened to you?” asks the person on the lower branch. She has a softer voice but sounds drunker. Acts thus too, she sprawls out on the branch on her stomach, clings to it and locks her arms and legs around it.

“My roommate’s fucking a professor whose quiz I have Monday morning,” groans Leonard and rolls his eyes.

“That’s not that bad–“ tries the person on the higher branch, though she doesn’t sound all that convinced herself.

“I’ve walked in on them, and both saw me, thank you very much.”

“That’s bad.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty bad,” agree both.

Leonard scoffs.

“Actually, you know what? Scoot.” And with that Leonard jumps and grabs the lowest branch.

The tree shakes. Leaves rustle.

“Ugh. This looked so much easier from below,” huffs Leonard but pulls himself up still. “Do you have anything stronger than–“

“We have Romulan ale,” interrupts the person on the higher branch and flicks the bottle next to her.

“Great.” Leonard reaches out, and she hands him the bottle. “What about you?”

“My roommate fucked the exchange student I was supposed to be showing around campus.” Shrugs the one on the higher branch. “She commented,” he coughs and makes her voice sound higher, “she’d show her something more interesting than my labs and xenolinguistic dust. Hmp.”

“That’s not half that bad–“ starts Leonard, but gets a pat on the arm.

“Oh, _please_. The first _Exen_ exchange student? The one I was hoping to meet for weeks because she might help me raise awareness of our xenolinguistics club? Yeah, that one! What would they even think of the Starfleet now!”

“That we have hot students?” suggests Leonard peacefully and drinks up.

“Argh.” She snatches the bottle from him and drinks too.

Leonard looks down.

“Oh, I’m just sad,” says the person below. “Also, there’re three guys in my room who I don’t know, and it was pretty gross to wake up to them moaning close-by with my roommate in between. She didn’t even see I was there. Sleeping. In my bed. At night. Where I should be…” she whimpers by this point, and Leonard holds out the bottle.

“Nyota,” suggests the person above. “That’s Christine,” she points below. “And Scotty’s left to fetch whiskey. He’s got a stash.”

And Leonard ponders, perhaps, the day wasn’t so bad after all. He’s got dumped by a date, walked in on Jim and his hobgoblin, but has found drinking pals.

***

Jim wakes up to quiet breathing which is not his own. The warmth under his cheek, the thudding under his fingertips remind him of last night. And, no, nothing happened. Well, mostly.

Jim shifts a little and nuzzles more into Spock. Who stayed the night. With his clothes mostly on. The whatever it is in between them hums in content, and now Jim is sure he’s not imagining it.

Last night they made out. Jim feels the heat blaze inside him at the memory. Then they _somehow_ managed to draw away because it’s too fast a change, and who knows when Bones walks in on them the third time. Bones was supposedly returning to the dorm, right? Jim tilts his head a bit so as not to disturb Spock but still get a look on the other bed across the room. No, it’s neatly made as it was the day before. Bones is nowhere to be seen.

Dammit. Jim presses his fingers into Spock’s side gentle enough not to wake him up but intends to feel the heartbeat stronger. Spock’s chest goes up and down under, and Jim grins and nuzzles into it. Still a good night, they cuddled and talked, and Spock might have fallen asleep in his undershirt after all, yet Jim _definitely_ knows now every curl there is underneath it. And his hands, oh so remember every muscle beneath that undershirt.

Spock mentioned _the bond._ Didn’t elaborate, he said it was the warm touch and presence that Jim felt whenever they were close. And it was there because they were highly compatible.

“Highly, huh…” breathes out Jim, moves down and leaves a chaste kiss in between his fingers on Spock’s side and just above his heart.

Spock stirs.

Jim grins wickedly and slides his finger up across Spock’s chest till he reaches the undershirt’s neck and stops there.

“J…im,” mumbles Spock in his sleep.

Jim hears his breath hitch. Spock looks deliciously alluring like that. His usual perfect hair a mess, Jim’s made sure of it yesterday, and a slight greenish blush plays on his cheeks.

Jim licks his lips. The bond jolts as Jim moves higher and runs his fingertips up Spock’s chin. His thumb stops at the corner of Spock’s mouth, hardly touching–

Spock opens his eyes.

“Morning,” beams Jim, yet his smile falters.

This… this feels not real. Like, he might right now hear Bones grumbling, or the alarm clock going off, and Jim, definitely, wakes up in a cold bed all alone. Fear seizures his body.

Spock blinks. Clearly, he doesn’t understand right away where he is, or maybe what the unusual weight on top of him means– or whatever! Confusion seeps through the bond, and Jim, already panicking, now has two and a half reasons more. Was he too forward? Should they have stopped yesterday? But they did! They didn’t have sex or anything, just kissed. And made out. And groped each other a lot, but Spock was a willing participant in that, it wasn’t like Jim pressured him into it. Has he broken some Vulcan rule? Has he done something wrong?

“Cadet Kirk–“ starts Spock, and Jim is already fleeing the dorms.

Well, this mind certainly is.

“I thought we have long agreed you call me Jim,” blurts out Jim and snatches his hand away from Spock’s face.

Spock leans into where Jim’s palm just been. It calms Jim a little, the bond between them carries the disappointment over the loss of touch, and Jim takes a deep breath.

“After what happened yesterday especially,” Jim pushes on.

Spock pales even more. The bond vibrates, and Jim guesses he can tell just how fast churns that brilliant brain of Spock’s.

“After what has happened it has become vital,” cuts off Spock coldly and sits up.

Jim is pushed up with him. He clutches Spock’s arm not to tumble aside and back into the sheets.

Spock rubs the bridge of his nose, combs back his messy hair and looks down at Jim. His eyes seem cold and distant, yet the bond betrays the uneasy feeling to Jim. Hesitation. That rotten taste in your mouth when you do something that has to be done, rather than what you actually want to do.

“Spock?” tries Jim quietly, because Spock keeps staring at him, and it scares Jim.

“We should not have done, it was a mistake,” says Spock.

“You regret saying that already,” muses Jim and nuzzles closer to Spock’s arm.

Confusion. Surprise.

“The bond…” breathes out Spock in pure awe and looks at Jim as if he’s just turned another colour or something.

“Dunno.” Jim shrugs honestly. “You’ve mentioned this link we might have, and I guess, after the night I, er, kinda feel you better…?”

Spock’s mind churns.

“I am to take the blame for what has happened.” Spock looks decisively serious. “If we are to take this relationship seriously, and me being in a position of authority over you–“

“Authority?” Jim frowns because he understands none of it. Wait. “Relationship?!”

“I…” Spock stutters.

Jim freezes and stares because in the daylight creeping in through the open curtains, he sees how deeply Spock can flush. Basically, it’s safer to say that Spock’s whole face turns green up to the pointed tips of his cure ears.

And he’s confessed he wants to be with Jim. _A relationship,_ that’s what Spock’s said, and no matter how scary it sounds to Jim who’s mostly done casual, this time… Jim can’t explain it to himself even if he tried. This time he wants it, he wants Spock and he wants to keep Spock in his life for as long as he can.

Jim settles with himself that it’s a gut feeling. Spock might disagree with him it should be the bond’s doing – or were they, in essence, one and the same thing? Jim feels Spock’s emotions seep into him, their minds reach out for each other. They touch, and rub, and poke into each other, and yet won’t quite meld into one as they did in the night.

Spock’s apprehension and reluctancy.

Jim’s inner insecurity and abandonment issues.

“You’re in no position of authority over me,” points out Jim. “I take none of your classes. Academy rules allow it like that, I’ve checked.”

Jim hopes Spock doesn’t catch on why Jim’s wanted to check it in the first place.

“You are my assistant,” insists Spock.

Oh, that’s what it’s all about. Jim bursts out laughing, and the lightness and warmth sweep over the bond. Spock blinks and stares. Jim laughs even harder at his flushed face and reaches out, first snatches his fingers back but a little, but touches Spock’s forehead in the end. Jim ruffles his hair the way it was when Spock was yet sleeping. The unkempt, messy way. The _perfect_ way.

“Which isn’t a legal position at the academy anyway,” chokes out Jim in between the laughter. “But I can give that one up if you’d rather I do. Well, I just thought I’d have an excuse to spend more time with you. I kinda don’t need the excuse now…?“ Jim falls silent and leaves the cautious question hanging in the crackling air in between them.

“Oh.”

Jim’s rarely, if ever, seen Spock speechless, and this moment is clearly it.

Through the bond, Jim feels only love.

“You’re not that smart in the mornings, are you?” Jim muses and runs soothing circles in Spock’s hair. His fingers move down to Spock’s neck before Jim settles his palm on Spock’s chest.

The golden warmth engulfs him and sinks into Jim’s very skin. Jim relaxes and snakes his arms around Spock’s waist, he yanks him down with him, and they both fall back onto the pillow. Well, Spock goes onto the pillow, and Jim settles back on his chest because there were two solid logical reasons they fell asleep like that. The dorms’ beds were wide enough to fit one person, or two if squashed really close together. And two, Jim only had one pillow, and taking Bones’s pillow wasn’t something Jim felt okay about to sleep with his– his…?

“So… we’re together? Right?” Jim didn’t mean to sound that apprehensive, though with this bond between them he wouldn’t have hidden it behind a calmer attitude anyway.

“I thought it self-concluding.”

“Yes or no?” blurts out Jim.

“Yes.”

Jim lets out the breath he was holding.

“That is, unless you would–“

“Nope,” cuts in Jim and pokes Spock in the chest. “No returns mister, you now have me. The Jim Kirk walking disaster.”

The bond hums. Spock shifts, and Jim groans at first. Apparently, Spock moves only to plant a quick kiss to the top of Jim’s head before he settles back onto the pillow.

“I could use more excitement in my life,” Spock muses peacefully.

Jim chuckles. Spock doesn’t laugh but makes a kind of a low, content sound which makes his chest vibrate right under Jim’s cheek.

“You’ve got it,” whispers Jim and listens to their heartbeats. The bond hums back in the same united rhythm.

There comes a low thud on the door. Not a knock, it sounds more like something large runs into the door, swears and steps away from it.

Jim snaps up, and Spock sits up too, though with his arms still around Jim.

The door opens.

***

“… the carts in my pockhet...” mumbles McCoy. He leans over Scotty’s shoulder and hardly stands on his own.

Scotty doesn’t catch it. Nyota over his back, in a piggyback ride mumbles something in Scotty’s collar.

“Carts,” McCoy groans and straightens his back. He lets go of Scotty, loses his balance and sways but stubbornly reaches for the pocket on his shirt. Pulls out the card, wobbles to the door–

“Dammit…”

McCoy slams into the door and swears. Scotty doesn’t get the rest because he can’t make out any words. But gets the idea.

“ ‘at must hurt, eh,” says Scotty empathetically.

Nyota puffs into his neck. She doesn’t wake up but Scotty checks quickly that she stays on his back. They’ve carried Christine back to her room already, and McCoy’s has the next closest dorm room.

“…”

Scotty has no idea what McCoy answers but he definitely attempts another fall on the door. This time with his arm outstretched so that the card, somehow, accidentally gets close enough for the sensors to pick it up, and the door unlocks.

“ ‘ere we go,” cheers Scotty and catches McCoy back under the arm just as he was about to kiss the floor.

Scotty pulls McCoy up and steps him inside the room.

Two pairs of eyes stare.

“Guid mornin’ Lieutenant Commander Spock,” says Scotty peacefully.

“Lieutenant Commander Scott,” acknowledges Spock back.

Scotty and drags McCoy to the middle of the room. “Is ‘at his bed?”

Since the said colleague of his already occupies one bed with his arms around a dishevelled blonde, Scotty scoots McCoy over to the other one.

“Yeah…?” breathes out the blonde who Scotty assumes to be McCoy’s roommate. Because, otherwise, it would’ve been too weird.

Nyota on his back shifts and mumbles but doesn’t wake up. Scotty pushes McCoy onto the bed, he falls with his face flat into the blanket, but that’s softer than running his head into the door. Scotty scoops McCoy’s legs up onto the bed.

And Scotty minds his own business. Which includes not asking anything else and carrying Nyota outside the room.

“ ‘Ave a nice day,” he throws before he closes the door behind him.

***

Jim stares at the wall. Spock stares at cadet McCoy snoring across his made bed with his face in the blanket.

“Who… was that?” asks Jim cautiously.

Spock feels the uneasy, sticky emotion he cannot name gnarl at him through the bond.

“You… won’t get in trouble, will you?”

“You professed our relationship is allowed according to Starfleet academy regulations but three and a half minutes ago,” points out Spock.

The digital clock on the wall blinks and turns to nine am sharp.

“Yeah…” Jim breathes out. “It’s just…”

“Too soon?” Spock gets from the bond.

Jim nods and leans into Spock’s embrace. “And embarrassing like this. Who was that again?”

Spock recalls Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott’s own attire. The black faculty uniform was on him. Utterly creased all over. The collar askew, unbuttoned to his chest and showing the pale undershirt. A leaf stuck in one rolled-up trouser leg. A clearly drunk cadet Nyota Uhura on his back, and the wasted cadet Leonard McCoy in tow. Lieutenant Commander Scott himself must have been uninhibited as well, although he concealed the affliction better than his companions. The smell of alcohol still wafted in the room after his departure, and cadet McCoy, who they left behind, wasn’t the only reason.

“Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott,” said Spock quietly.

“Don’t know him,” Jim whispered back.

“You didn’t have his classes yet. He is mostly on the engineering track, the rest, however, will have his introductory course.”

“Ah.”

They should not fear waking up cadet McCoy, who snored loud enough to drown out any noise. For an illogical reason, Spock still kept his voice low, and had Jim answer in the same manner. It added a certain… intimacy to the whole however comic situation.

Spock wondered which was a greater breach of academic conduct ethically.

“Drinking with two cadets or sleeping with one?” chuckled Jim and reached higher to leave a kiss under Spock’s chin. And another higher, and more till he finally reaches Spock’s mouth–

Spock finds himself in a compromising position where he could not care any more.

***

The blue things.

Spock realises a lot of blue things have found their place in his office, perhaps too late. It happens… accidentally. Spock is sitting in his office late in the evening, frowns, rubs the bridge of his nose and grades the last papers. His head hurts, and the dimmed lights hurt–

And then he looks up from yet another test… and looks around. It might be the change in illumination that attracts Spock’s attention. On the windowsill, he finds a blue tree-like decorative piece, which holds no purpose but for, as Jim put it _looking nice_. On the table’s corner stands a blue PADD-holder. Mostly unnecessary, but Spock has found it surprisingly more comfortable to use it when recording data for his experiments. A blue cup, among all the little, quaint and not-blue things his mother has sent from Vulcan. Plants, and more and more of those were no longer for an experiment but for… aesthetic purposes.

Closest of all to Spock stands a small blue aloe-like plant. Its rough leaves are the same colour which Spock still struggles to describe. It’s a light-blue darker than ice, yet lighter than–

Most alarmingly, it’s the same colour Jim’s eyes are. Jim is yet to notice Spock’s lapse, and Spock starts to believe in luck and hopes, the two human things he would have thought he would be part to.

Will he come off too… intense? Spock drops the stylus he was still holding. Too forward? Too possessive…? Vulcans generally are, but Spock keeps it in check so as not to overwhelm Jim with all the emotions he has for him. The light bond they share still sometimes alarms Jim, and Spock logically understands it. Vulcan bonds might be too invasive for a human definition of a relationship. Whoever first said that Vulcans had no emotions, Spock feels so much towards his mate–

His PADD rings. Spock snaps out of it and takes the call before he looks at the screen. It should be Jim, he has left to find them tea and coffee, but something must have held him up.

The hologram activates.

“Spock,” beams his mother in the holo-image.

***

Amanda pauses for a moment to take in the dimly-lit room. Her son looks up at her. Dark circles under his eyes. Pale. At least not slimmer than the last time she saw him, which happened the last time they’ve talked.

“You’re working till night again?” Amanda gasps.

“I…“ Spock looks around. “Yes, mother.”

Amanda sighs. Then her eyes linger on all the things on the usually empty-neat table.

“You did keep them,” she exclaims, her mood restored to cheerful. She cranes her neck and looks around Spock’s office to see more.

Spock shifts, uncomfortably, in his chair and moves right. Maybe she doesn’t see a few things behind his back now, yet Amanda takes in the picture.

“And you’ve redecorated!” She smiles in wonder. It occurs that she should say _decorated_ because Spock’s previous office looked not habitable at all. But she keeps the teasing remark to herself for now.

“What is the meaning behind this call, mother?” asks Spock.

“Why, I simply wanted to see how you were doing–“

Suddenly, the door opens. _Clicks open_ , notes Amanda, which must mean the person had the digital imprint to do so. Which would mean that her son has finally agreed to take on an assistant, perhaps they might even become friends!

“Look what I’ve found!” shouts the visitor and walks into the view of the holo.

Blonde. Red cadet uniform, Amanda remember her son had the same one a few years back. He carries a… large blue plant? What looks like a plant with large blue leaves but no flowers in a pot.

“Well, not found,” beams the cadet, and he misses to notice Amanda on the holo as he plumps the thing on Spock’s table. “Sulu was wandering the corridors for anyone to take it. His boyfriend is allergic to it, and, funny thing, I’m not. I mean, funny considering that I’m allergic to half of the flora and many other things.”

Amanda fears the worst. The cadet looks positively proud. He radiates happiness, Amanda catches some even over the holo. And her son just sits there and stares at the offending plant brought in front of him.

“Are you sure?” asks Spock quietly.

Amanda freezes. Not the reaction she was expecting, and she thought she knew her son well enough.

“Yeah,” beams the cadet. “Checked with Bones and everything.”

Spock still looks tense though. Amanda recognises how his shoulders are, and that Spock keeps his head lower than usual.

“I… thought you’d like it,” tries the cheerful cadet but his enthusiasm falters. He grabs the pot and moves it about a little to show the plant from move sides. “It’s your favourite colour.”

“It is… agreeable.”

The cadet grins. Amanda knows _that_ might be among the highest praises one can get from her son. Then, there’s this assistant of Spock’s who seems to know that as well, because any other would take it to heart, rather than be happy about such a dry remark.

And then the last part clicks with Amanda.

“Favourite colour?” She wonders and realises that she says it’s out loud too late.

The cadet yelps and whirls around, notices the holo, stares, turns back to Spock, then back to the holo. Flushes crimson.

“Oh, hello,” Amanda tries with a smile and waves. “I was surprised he’s decided to choose one.”

“Wha– Really?” He turns to Spock. _Slowly_. “When I asked why the cup has to be blue you said it was your favourite colour.”

***

Spock wants to fall through the floor at this point. Logically, he understands the academy’s campus is newly-renovated and maintained in the best possible state, and so that luxury shall not be presented to him. Jim, however, is never to discover why, among forty-three other colours and shades, Spock has chosen that particular cup. Most importantly, that it reminded him of Jim’s eyes.

Their bond hums with curiosity. Jim holds his gaze. In the most fortunate turn of events, Spock might at least benefit from a sudden ion or sand storm disturbing the communications and cutting off his mother.

***

Jim knows they’re gonna be alright. He smiles and walks into the room with two mugs in his hands.

“Hey.”

Spock smiles back. It’s in the little changes about his face, in the small creases at the corners of his eyes and the warm gaze following Jim’s body.

“Ashayam.”

Jim plumps down next to him and leans against Spock, though careful enough not to spill the contents all over them both. Spock sniffs and quirks one eyebrow–

“I’ve spiked mine,” Jim winks back.

Because, of course, he’s made them hot chocolate for a quiet evening alone in a small cabin in the woods while a snowstorm rages outside. Their first winter holidays together. Just the two of them.

The bond sings. Their minds reach for each other and intertwine together.

Spock takes the offered mug from Jim and takes a sip. His eyes never leave Jim’s, which sends a burning chill up Jim’s spine. Hunger. Desire thuds through their bond.

Jim grins wickedly and licks his lips. And Jim knows they’re gonna be alright.

***

“Doctor Leonard McCoy to Enterprise!” carries the announcement along the corridors. “In case any of you didn’t know before that the captain is taken by the first officer now you know. Also swing by medbay, I want to have your eyes checked.”

Christine mumbles into the blanket which could be interpreted as a laugh. Nyota laughs, falls flat onto the table in front of her, but laughs too hard, and slips to the floor. She looks happy down there though. Scotty chortles.

Leonard snorts and twirls around on his chair.

Sure enough, in some time the door to medbay opens.

“C…hapta-an?” Christine jerks her head up from the bio-bed. Her messy hair flows down her forehead and covers her face, and Christine blows on it. Which doesn’t help. “You dint know you ma-i-ied Com-commanter Spock?”

“Maybe I should have more than Jim’s eyes checked then,” smirks Leonard.

Jim glares but accepts it soon enough.

"I know all of you are off-shift, so just..." Jim glances about the room. Sighs. Pinches the bridge of his nose and adds, "Spock passes on that your sense of humour is juvenile, Bones. And the rest, please, try to keep the party in." 

Jim leaves.

“To the Roommates Friday club,” toasts Scotty and drinks from the bottle.

Leonard laughs and twirls around on the chair once again.

Who could’ve thought they all would end up on one ship one day.

**Author's Note:**

> P.s. I love comments ;) Even a single emoji will do


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